From a world beyond memory,
where the years sleep inside folded light,
one quiver of eternity
is carried on the breath of heaven—
so softly,
so slowly—
drifting toward me like a secret long withheld.

In this trembling hour,
a shard of the Infinite descends,
brushing the rim of my field
with a touch so faint
it feels like the whisper
of something holy passing by.

Sorrow loosens,
winter unlatches its frozen hand.
And spring—
a greenness born before time began—
rises in the air
as though called forth
by the hidden chambers of the soul.

Then love appears—
bare, steady,
yet glowing with a silence
that fills the whole horizon—
opening like a dawn
that does not break,
but simply arrives,
solemn and luminous,
with the quiet certainty
of the sacred.

© TaeHun Yoon